


Falling SkyeWard

by AutumnSunLight



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-21
Updated: 2013-12-11
Packaged: 2018-01-02 07:23:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1054067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnSunLight/pseuds/AutumnSunLight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of Skye/Ward one-shots set between the episodes. Spoilers for previous episodes but not upcoming episode.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peaceful is Good

**Author's Note:**

> Set between 1x04 and 1x05.

Mom and Dad were busy; May was on the stick, flying them who-knew where, and Coulson was up in his office, surrounded by his old things, figuring out the next mission. The kids, as Skye had come to think of them, were slumped in the common area, the ‘living room’ of the Bus. FitzSimmons had sprawled over each other, Fitzy’s legs throw casually over Jemma’s with a bowl of popcorn shared between them. Skye cut her eyes over at them again, trying to figure the best friends out as the movie played on.   
Ward sat next to her, hogging their bowl of popcorn and mouthing movie lines. “Hey, do you mind?” Skye complained, elbowing the man sitting next to her mockingly.   
“What?” Ward said, sitting up a little straighter.   
“It’s bad enough you’re having to do the movie line thing, but do you have to say the line before the actor?” Skye whined.  
Ward schooled his features into a mask of innocence, gave her a ‘who, me?’ look.   
“Yeah, you, you Captain Jack wanna-be.” Skye smirked.  
Fitz leaned around Simmons. “It is kind of annoying when you’ve never seen the movie before and someone is determined to get every line perfect, five seconds before it’s supposed to be delivered…”  
“Kind of takes the punch out of the punch line.” Simmons finished.   
Skye snorted indelicately, and Ward gave her a ‘oh, really?’ look as Pirates of the Caribbean played on, now ignored.   
Grant Ward leaned forward, towards FitzSimmons, invading Skye’s personal space; cologne, spearmint, and something else Skye was still trying to place but was currently calling ‘The Men in Black Smell’ because in smelled agent-y, invaded her nose, while a bicep was placed entirely too close to her face for comfort. The little hitch in Skye’s chest was not attraction, and the tightening of her stomach had nothing to do with butterflies. Not and Nothing.  
“Yeah, well,” Ward was saying antagonistically, until Skye’s foot, which had been tucked under her, slipped, and sent her bumping into his arm as she slipped forward.   
“Sorry.”  
“It’s fine. I guess I can be quiet.” Ward conceded.   
Fitzy grinned triumphantly.   
“I’ve seen it before. If you must, mutter them to me.” Skye offered.  
Grant looked over in surprise. She’d started the fight, and now she was going to let him pester her for another whole hour?  
Skye shrugged. The serenity that came from knowing there were two adults-yes, she knew they were all grown-ups, but it was different-nearby who cared, the movie and the familial squabbling. It felt a lot like peace. Skye wanted to pick the pieces up like sea glass and hoard them in her pocket. Peaceful was good. If Ward whispering movie lines made it feel like this, she never wanted him to stop.


	2. The Bracelet Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward's point of view in the fall-out after Skye's betrayal of the S.H.I.E.L.D team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m taking the ‘take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but foot prints’ approach to in-between-episode one-shot writing; in other words, if I think they’ll touch on it in an upcoming episode, I’m leaving it alone in this series of one-shots, and just sticking to moments between characters using what we already know (to tide me over until the next episode!). So please keep that in mind while reading :)

A little poop with knives. That’s how people saw his people skills. That’s how approachable they saw him. Ward lay in his bunk and stared out at the night sky. Sleep was far, far away. It had been a week since he’d walked into an apartment moments after Skye had been with another man, a traitor to their cause. A week since Coulson had decided to let her stay anyway.   
And it had been a stunningly awkward week. Of meals, of forced ‘bonding’ during ‘S.O. and Rookie time’ and extreme avoidance every other hour of the day; of training that her whole heart was in and he could barely stomach.   
Ward turned and gazed blankly at the ceiling. It all came down to one thing-that prickly poop of human interaction was actually nonexistent around Skye. Yeah, his brother had made him distrustful of people, and given him a dislike of having others in his business, because growing up, people had always asked too many questions. But he wanted Skye to ask questions. To needle him and prod and know.  
Although he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.  
Or why he’d felt so weird when they’d not only found her with the man from The Rising Tide, but with him.   
Ward wasn’t used to feeling this way. To paying compliments-because let’s be honest, it hadn’t been simply a comment and it was laughable he’d tried to play it off as such-and smiling at pretty girls without any reservations. Because all too often, it backfired.   
Case in point-the beautiful girl with the silver cuff on her wrist currently sleeping on the opposite side of the plane.   
He finally gave up trying to sleep, and wandered to the kitchen for a snack and some milk, like that was going to fix everything. When he saw who was sitting on the counter, already nursing a glass of white liquid, he pulled up short.   
She looked entirely too innocent in short sleeping shorts and a loose gray v-neck, hair tumbling around her shoulders, eyes wide from lack of anything vaguely soporific. But her body was loose, hands clasped gently around the tumbler; the silver cuff glinting softly on her wrist.   
Until she saw him. She tensed, shoulders hunching, as her eyebrows knit together and her thighs clenched, feet arching. Skye slipped off the counter, slid a cookie off with her, and hurried towards him, then almost past him.  
His arm shot out as she came even with him in the doorway. He wasn’t sure why. He couldn’t stand being in the same room with her knowing she’d lied to them. Lied to him. But he didn’t want her to leave. “Stay.”  
“I-I don’t know,” she stuttered, clutching her milk and actually looking scared.   
Something inside Ward softened minutely, and he tacked on, “Please.”  
“Okay,” Skye agreed, and slid into the bench seat at the table, drawing her legs up in a protective gesture but leaving him with a view of the backs of her long legs that he liked a little too much.   
He poured milk, and fished two oatmeal cookies out of the jar.  
After five minutes of silence that might have been companionable eight days before but was now just awkward, Ward noticed the pack of Uno cards sitting on the table.   
He picked them up, wiggled the pack between them. “Want to play?”   
Skye raise a surprised eyebrow, quirked her mouth…her very full mouth...Then she shrugged slim shoulders. “Sure.”  
A few minutes later, a remarkably quiet Skye drew four cards and silently laid down his requested green. After another five minutes, when she laid down a plus four and he stacked a second plus four on top, she simply picked up all eight cards. Normally, that would have earned him at least a glare, if not a smack.   
Ward squirmed. They were playing in absolute silence, and she was obviously cowed. He didn’t know what she had said to Coulson to get him to offer her asylum, but clearly there was more to the story than what she was telling him; than what they were telling him.   
As her S.O., it rankled, but he’d turned down her plea to come to the office with her when she was plainly scared and hurting. Now he was just going to have to take it on faith for a little bit, he supposed, and give her some room to come to him in her own time.   
Obviously, this had affected her. She was huddled on the other side of the table, spark gone. And it wasn’t his fault and he couldn’t put it back. And he sure wasn’t going to pry it out of her.  
Wasn’t even sure he quite forgave her yet. But seeing the self-proclaimed ‘hacktivist’ skulking around the Bus, cut off from her electronics and now from the people he knew she’d been beginning to see as family, the family she wanted so badly…  
He was her S.O. And somewhere along the line he’d made that synonymous with friend.   
“I have to say, it’s nice not to be harassed about my right to stack cards,” he commented contentedly.   
Her head snapped up from studying her hand of cards; her head tilts as she studies Ward, obviously trying to figure out what he’s doing.  
Then she retreats behind her cards again, lays down a stop that skips him and a plus four. “Red, please,” she says meekly.   
He just about growls in frustration. Looks down, sees a color change card in his hand. Decides to draw her out the same way he did in the first place. Driving her crazy. Lays it down. “Green.”  
She huffs.   
He smirks.   
She draws cards for three turns, finally comes up with a green plus two. Lays it down with a little spirit.   
He’s making progress.  
Two turns later, she’s managed to not draw anymore cards, and he’s down to two cards. But he has to lay down the plus four first…this will be interesting.   
The plus four goes down. One delicate eyebrow rises; her lips pucker together, part with a huff. She squirms in her seat, starts to open her mouth, shuts it, then loses control, explodes. “Seriously Ward? Again?” as she begins drawing cards. “Oh, and by the way, you forgot Uno!” She tells him smugly, nodding at the forgotten card in his hand as he watches her, completely absorbed, while she gloats.   
Ward sighs in a show of defeat, draws four himself. Skye is giggling across the table from him at the look on his face. And five minutes later, he isn’t the least bit disappointed when she whisper-shouts “Uno!” and wins the game.   
They wash the dishes in silence, then head back to their respective bunks.   
“Goodnight, Skye.”  
“Do Robots need sleep?” she asks, teasing, tipping her head up at him.   
“This one does,” he replies with a smile. “I hope you sleep well.”  
“Thanks. You too Ward.”  
He wanders back with a smile. She seemed almost happy for a few minutes. That was good…good S.O. work, he told himself. He still wasn’t quite sure what to do with her now, and still wasn’t quite sure why that was. But they’d figure that out later. Right now they both needed sleep. And hopefully she’d have sweet dreams now, he thought as he laid down.  
Where did that wish come from? He wondered drowsily moments before he slipped into his own sweet dreams of a certain brunet, who always slipped away before morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How was Ward's point of view? Drop me a review!


	3. The Bracelet Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye's point of view in the fall-out after her betrayal of the S.H.I.E.L.D team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 1x05 and 1x06

What have I done? That was her first thought once she realized the full extent of betrayal of her…significant other. And in the meantime, she’d betrayed her supervising officer, her whole team.   
S.O.   
To everyone else it meant significant other, but right now, Miles wasn’t feeling so significant, except a significant tool. Skye’s other S.O., however…he was another story. She was afraid she’d broken the new, fragile pieces of that so thoroughly they’d never be put back together. How would she ever explain?   
Why had she gone to him in the first place, anyway? She should be focusing on finding her parents. Obviously it…he, had been a huge mistake, Skye thought, punching the bag in the training area angrily again.   
Trusting anyone was such a gamble. She should have cashed out on him much earlier, she supposed. But how did you ever know? Skye jabbed the bag in frustration.   
Would she and Ward ever get back to sinking ships, much less anything else? They’d totally lost the ease they’d had before, although he had been remarkably sweet and normal a few nights ago in the kitchen; but since then, things were still strained.   
“How’s it going Rookie?” A deep voice rumbled from the catwalk above. She startled, glanced up to find the object of her thoughts leaning on the railing, watching her intently.   
He hadn’t called her Rookie since The Incident, as she’d been thinking of it.   
“Okay,” Skye hedged.   
“I was thinking we should work on shooting today.” He said, walking down the stairs.  
“Shooting?”  
“Yeah, so next time you disarm someone you don’t have to jump into a pool. You don’t have to take a kill shot. Just get them in the kneecap or shoulder,” he explained.   
Skye shuddered. The idea of pulling a gun on someone, maiming them, making them bleed…it was one thing she was having real issues with as an up-and-coming S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. So she was making light of it, proclaiming “Bang!” every time she had to pull the trigger.   
She remembered the day with Mike Peterson, the superhero gone rogue, before she was a part of the team, and was just a scared hostage surrounded by men with guns. With no one to protect her. Now they wanted her to be one of them, to hold the gun. Surround other people in a constellation of weapons.   
It was empowering, but also terrifying. A part of her was still trying to process all the times people had pointed a gun at or around her in the last few weeks, and to pick one up herself yet again was overwhelming. She was only an early twenty-something after all-barely out of her teens. And they expected so much.   
It was exhilarating and, well, terrifying. Kind of like the guns.   
“Skye?” Ward was holding a gun out to her, a slightly exasperated look on his face.   
“Right. Gun,” she said, taking the weapon. The silver cuff on the wrist flashed in the light; bright, shiny humiliation she was glad to bear if it proved how committed she was to S.H.I.E.L.D. To them. “Now what do I do with this thing?”   
Ward patiently went through the protocols of loading, unloading and actually shooting. “Now, should we go over disarming some more?” he asked.   
Skye grimaced. She knew exactly what that meant. Flashed back to last time.   
“Now again. Slowly. What’s first?” Ward asked, pointing the gun at her chest, all impatient smolder.   
Skye took a deep breath-she wasn’t sure she really wanted to do this, put herself in this position, but she’d have to do it, get it over with, to be finished-and stepped forward, gripped his arm, twisted, backed her body against his.   
“And then?” he asks, words rumbling through his chest and into her back distractingly.   
Skye decides to smart-alec her way out of it. “Then,” she drawls in a thick southern accent, “things are moving too quickly…”  
“Skye.” Ward snapped in the present.   
“Yes sir,” she instinctively replied, then internally groaned; patted herself on the back that then and now he couldn’t read her mind.  
Ward raise an eyebrow. Shoot, that had probably been over-kill, she thought, berating herself for letting it slip out.   
“Come on. Let’s see if you remember what to do without me telling you,” he said, leveling the firearm at her chest.   
Skye felt a hundred times more apprehensive than she had the last time they’d done this. Now he didn’t trust her anymore. And with that connection severed, it made this a million times harder. They’d made so much progress, and she’d actually allowed herself to trust him, to genuinely like him; why had she been so stupid? Why had she just had to go and warn Miles? And then the other bits that had just happened, totally unplanned…  
Well, that was a bloody mess all to itself.  
Stupid, stupid.  
All this swirled through her head in seconds as she rocked on her feet and Ward watched her, all of the kind patience gone from his eyes, although there’s something there she can’t quite read. Suddenly mulishly determined to get at least this right, to prove to him that it had mattered enough for her to pay attention, remember, she stepped forward quickly.   
Grip, twist, back against his chest. His warm, solid chest that for some reason feels more like a safe haven than Miles’ ever did, no matter the circumstances that have put her there.   
“And then?” he asks once again.   
This time she doesn’t make a quip, keeps her comments about being ‘a proper southern girl’ to herself, shows him she’s taking it seriously. “Walk me through it?” she asks hesitantly.   
And he does, left arm wrapping around her body to guide her hands on the gun and his arm, the pitch of his voice lower as he almost murmurs into her ear, the weary tone gone from his voice. “Twist your thumb,” he rotates her finger, “and palm the barrel,” he reminds her, hand gentle over hers as he moves her through the motions. Skye feels almost hopeful, listening to him patiently explain the maneuvers she’ll need to make, sounding almost just like before. Of course, his words were just the same, but his tone, that was something else altogether, and even it sounded almost normal.   
Then she’s spinning, and executing his instructions perfectly, now pointing the gun at his chest. He smiles briefly at her. “Good.”  
Skye swallows, hands him back the gun. Thinks about the secret she’s still keeping from him, assuming Coulson hasn’t spilled the proverbial beans for her. She has to tell him, and soon. She, the Secret Keeper, cannot stand him not knowing any longer. It had already been grating on her, but now that she’s been forced to show her hand to Coulson, it’s rubbing her raw. And it’s been driving her crazy, wondering if he’ll forgive her. But…  
A comment and a smile. Maybe things will be okay after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kind of ignored the bracelet and her barred-from-all-electronics (at least, that’s how I took it) status, because in my mind, Skye is way more worried about how her ‘family’, how Ward, are going to react to what she’s done that the fact that she can’t play with her tech toys…do you agree? Let me know what you thought of the latest installment--I love reviews!


	4. The Start

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward makes Skye a after-workout smoothie...shirtless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 1x06 and 1x07

Both S.O. and trainee were slick with sweat, and Skye was breathing hard; even Ward’s breathing was elevated.   
It had been a hard late night training session, but one they’d both needed. “I’m glad you’ve finally gotten to the point you can appreciate a little sweat.” Ward said as the climbed the spiral staircase.   
“I don’t sweat, I glisten,” Skye protested, moping drops of said glistening off her forehead, neck and chest with a towel while also chugging water out of a bottle with the S.H.I.E.L.D. logo.   
“Uhuh,” Ward mocked, before shaking his own wet workout towel in her face.   
“Ew, Ward!” Skye shrieked, and he smiled, then removed it from her personal space, dropping it in a laundry basket by the door to the main living area. Skye did the same, but not before swiping at him with hers.  
Ward also dropped his wet shirt in the basket, which was at once a gift and a curse. Skye peeked, then tried to fight the blush that was battling to stain her cheeks as those blasted glasses ventured back into her mind.   
“You want a snack before showers? I could do with some protein.” Ward said, and Skye was forced to look back at him. Her eyes landed on his chest as he spoke.   
No, bad Skye, look at his face. She instructed her self, then found herself staring at his toned shoulders and somehow muscular neck before she made it to his face. “Mmhmm, sure,” she nodded along, quite aware she was probably agreeing to some kind of high powered protein concoction just to look at Ward shirtless longer. She could gag it down, right?  
Sure enough, in the kitchen, Ward pulled out a big jar of protein power and a blender, in addition to vanilla Greek yogurt. “What kind of fruit do you like?” he asked, poised in the fridge, back muscles rippling.   
“What do we have?” she asked, pulling herself up on the counter and toeing off her New Balances, leaving her in yoga pants and a tank top and rainbow, polka-dotted socks. Then, “What do you like?”  
“What do you like?” he repeated, glancing over his shoulder at her.   
“I’m not really sure,” Skye confessed, “Especially not stuff that would be good in a smoothie.”  
Ward glanced back at her. “Not a lot of fresh fruit at St. Agnes. Apples, grapes, sometimes strawberries and oranges. They we’re much for ‘frills’,” here she made air quotes and a face.   
Ward starts yanking things out of the fridge, one of this, one of that. Sets it all on the counter and gets out a knife, a peeler Skye watches him for five minutes as he works feverishly, brows pinches, muscles rippling, before she realizes what he’s doing. Then it’s just another minute before a plate is set in front of her.   
“Kiwi, pineapple, coconut, pomegranate, pear,” he hands her a bowl, “tangerine.”   
She sits and looks at it, overwhelmed by what he’s done. Yes, she’s tried some of these in the time since she’d left St. Agnes. But he was trying to provide her something she’d missed out on, trying to do something nice, and kind, and maybe he really will, really does forgive her. And she’s never had pomegranate.   
Skye tries them all, in her sweaty tank top, swinging her polka-dotted feet, and Ward watches closely for her reactions to each one with his arms crossed in concentration.   
She finishes, and he says, “So, what’ll it be?”  
She bunches up her eyebrows. “In the protein shake,” he clarifies.   
“What do you like?” Skye asks, tilting her head. After all, they will both be drinking it, unless he’s planning on making two, but that seems silly.   
“Kiwi,” he finally says.   
“I like coconut,” she admits.   
“Kiwi-coconut it is,” he declares, and starts dumping ingredients in. The blender whirrs, and ten minutes later Skye has a protein shake and almost had her fill of a shirtless Grant Ward.   
They’re walking down the corridors to their bunks to pick up clothes before heading to the two shower stalls, when they hear a peal of laughter that sounds suspiciously like Simmons coming from the bunk next to Skye’s-Fitz’s bunk.   
They have to pass it to get to theirs, and as they get closer, the unmistakable sound of a rom-com can be heard on the TV in the bunk, while FitzSimmon’s voices murmur.   
The door is cracked, and Skye can’t resist a peek. Leo is stretched out on the bed, facing his ‘telly’…Jemma’s head on his shoulder. Skye slows, making sure she’s seeing right, reaching for Grant’s arm, patting, quietly smacking, gripping.   
He shakes his head, but looks at what has her all worked up. They pass, and she drags him past her bunk-too close to FitzSimmons-and into his. “Did you see what I think I saw?”  
“What do you think you saw?” he asks dryly, crossing his arms.   
Skye gulps. Too much bare skin in not enough space. Takes a gulp of protein shake to stall.   
“I…I don’t know. But it looked like something!”  
“Something,” he repeats skeptically.  
“Yes,” she’s gaining confidence, “the start of something.”  
He chuckles, the rich sound filling the small space, and something tugs, in her stomach and her heart. The start of something, indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a spin-off FitzSimmons fic that DOES NOT stay canon (*wink* *wink*) from the end of this chapter called 'Starlight'. If you're interested, or ship FitzSimmons half as hard as I do...  
> Drop me a review and lemme know what you thought of Ward's abs...


	5. The anchor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Skye reflects on loosing her anchor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 1x07 and 1x08

“Skye…” The impatience and curiosity in his voice were at odds.   
The girl in question, however, ignored him in favor of the glass tank in front of her. FitzSimmons had suggested the excursion on their day off, and for some reason Grant had decided to tag along. Now he was leaning over her shoulder as she peered into a saltwater aquarium containing macro algae, corals, a black clownfish she was convinced was a S.H.I.E.L.D-shrunken version of Shamu and magical, mystical seahorses. And teeny, tiny…“Hermit crabs!” she cries, startling the unflappable agent over her shoulder.   
There is a minute one in a white shell currently attempting to climb pinkish-red algae that looks like bubbles, and Skye is charmed by the tiny crab’s efforts as the algae bobs, and finally buckles under the weight, causing the crab to fall. “Isn’t it cute?” she asks Ward, who peers dubiously into the tank.   
He’s unconvinced, she can tell, by the set of his shoulders, now pressed tightly against hers. The warmth sends a thrill down her spine, unbidden. To think that days ago, his and Fitz’s very existence was in question.   
She’d joked about finding a new S.O.   
How could she ever find another supervisor, partner, friend, like Grant Ward? His warmth was seeping into her as they watched one seahorse wrap its tail around another’s neck, the first using the second as an anchor, as Skye used Grant the same way.   
And she’d almost lost him.   
It was swirling in her head, mixed up with the new information about the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that dropped her off at St. Agnes. Her mother? Why had she been left? Was she not good enough from the start, or were her parents, or even just her mother, part of an Op? It was so frustrating to have the answers barely within reach, and still know almost nothing.  
“Yeah, I guess it is pretty cute Rookie,” Ward murmured next to her, breaking the dark path her thoughts were taking. She smiled sadly. What would she have done if something had happened to him? She was coming to depend on the tall, dark and handsome agent much too much.   
But maybe it was okay to give in to depending on someone this once.   
“I still don’t understand what happened to the reef tank on the Bus,” Leo’s voice carried down the hall as FitzSimmons walked up.  
“Agent Coulson called it ‘Fury Tape’ when he explained it to me,” Jemma patiently explained to her best friend.   
“But it would have been so awesome! We could have observed the breeding behaviors of rock flower anemones and the feeding habits of mandarin dragonets,” Fitz whined.   
“I know,” Simmons patted him consolingly on the shoulder and turned laughing eyes at the other two members of her team, who had turned away from the tank and were watching the two scientists.   
Skye and Ward, to their credit, did appear to be trying not to laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it’s short, sorry! Busy school week! But drop me a review and let me know what you thought.


	6. The Flaw

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward tracks Skye down for "another time."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 1x08 and 1x09

May had helped. Ward didn’t exactly see her as a mother-figure, the way he knew Skye did, but he respected the older agent. Was a bit in awe of the strength possessed by The Calvary. And she had found it in herself to take him under her wing during their time on the Bus, nudging him into becoming Skye’s S.O.-first he’d been flattered, then angry that she’d put him in that position; now he was back to grudgingly grateful for the relationship with Skye she’d helped him create-and sitting wordlessly next to him after Skye’s betrayal, letting him nurse his drink and his wounds, not that he’d been willing to admit it at the time. Still wasn’t crazy about admitting that the pretty young hacker had managed to hurt him personally in the least.   
But May had become a constant, a steady source of strength and comfort in his life, something he hadn’t had before, and his admiration for her was only growing. She helped him see things differently.   
Like last night. Telling her about his brother, and the time he’d made him stand watch at the well had made him realize that telling it wouldn’t break him, it would free him from the bonds of the memory; the memory was back to stay, apparently, retelling it wasn’t going to bring it back up any more than it already was. He’d felt lighter after sharing with May, and in her own way, she’d helped him come to the conclusion that there was perhaps someone else on the Bus who would also be a good listener.   
Maybe even calm the red-hot rage burning in his chest every time he thought of the water better that The Calvary.   
So now Agent Grant Ward is prowling the Bus with a tablet in one hand, a program loaded that is currently tracking a certain hacker’s ‘dog tag’ as he’d overheard her charmingly refer to her silver cuff bracelet. Closer, closer, she should be right-“Oof” Ward exclaimed as he crashed into the very girl he’d been stalking.   
“What was so interesting on there?” Skye asked, eyebrow quirked, from her place on the floor. He reached down a hand to help her up, “Cars,” she inquired as he pulled her up, the squeaked when he overshot and sent her crashing in his chest, “G-guns?” she stuttered against his chest, brown eyes wide.   
“No,” he said curtly, trying to get himself back under control. He certainly didn’t like her, he told himself, but with her soft hair tickling his arm and those big eyes staring up into his, lips so close, it was hard to remember. The rage in his chest melted, completely replaced by an emotion Grant wasn’t sure he could name. Wanted to name.   
Then she slipped her hand out of his, and she stepped away.   
And then she was giving him a look. Oh, such a look, as he stood there. “Can I help you Agent Ward?” She asked tartly.  
“H-help me?” He stuttered, for some stupid reason.   
“Well, you do seem to have planted yourself outside of my bunk,” she pointed with one delicate wrist curving, to make her point.   
Focus Ward.   
“Ah, actually, yes.” He sighed. This wasn’t how he’d imagined it would go down. Point blank asking… “I said another time,” he felt himself shrugging, felt unsure of what on earth he was doing here, “it’s another time.” He prays this will be enough to jog her memory.   
Ward watches confusion cloud her eyes. “Another…” she mouthed, almost to herself, looking down.   
He’d never felt so vulnerable. May might be proud, though. “You said your shoulder was free,” he winces, he doesn’t need a shoulder to cry on, just wants her to know. “I just wanted to talk, I guess.” He finishes softly, looking at a point over her shoulder, stoic. This is not him. The thing in his chest simmers with rage at needing help.  
She immediately softens, loosens, slips over to him and wraps slim cool fingers around his thick wrist, tugging him into her bunk; skin on skin, calming the rage within.  
She sits down at the head, draws her legs up to her chest and pins clear brown eyes on him.   
“Talk,” she urges softly.   
He sits down heavily, slides onto the end of the bunk opposite her, mirroring his position. She’s watching him intently, and the story starts to pour out of him. How his older brother put his younger down the well, how he was made to watch, rope in hand while listening to panicked, weakening cries. All the hatred, both outward and inward-projected that stemmed from that single act.   
“I’d buried it deep down, didn’t think about it. My past is my fatal flaw, if I let it be. Burying it was the only way to deal with it, to move past it as I got older,” Grant said, “but now it’s like it happened yesterday. The hatred is as fresh as ever, the rage is…” He trails off, digging his fingers into his eyes, and dropping his head onto his knees.   
The bed shifts, and he hears movement to his left, and then small cool hands are slipping between his own and his face as she crowds him over on the bed to perch next to him, facing him. “Skye, don’t.” He ground out, shuddering away from her. “The rage, it’s at everyone and everything. It just wants to punish someone for what my brother did, and it doesn’t matter who it is, whoever gets in the way first when I lose control will get hurt,” he confessed.   
“So you want me to stay away from you? No.” Skye said, stubbornly.  
“Yes, Skye. Can you get that through your thick skull? That someone might not want to be around you? Might not want you touching them? Or has every man fallen at your feet like a puppy dog?” He’s breathing hard now, he can’t hurt her, can’t let her be there when he physically loses control, and the rage is screaming for release, and the stricken look on his Rookie’s face slowly makes him realize he’s just let a trickle out anyway.   
He’s off the bed like a shot, away from her, is all he can think, but he knocks her off too, and that doesn’t work either. She’s in a pile in the floor and he’s on the other side of the cramped space, feeling cornered, when he realizes he should help her up.   
Gently, carefully. “Skye, I’m so sorry.”   
“For?” She prodded, tucked in his arms, while the rage tried to roar and was swiftly silenced by the soft feel of her body in his arms.   
“Losing control. Knocking you off the bed. Letting the rage win, and hurt you. Skye, I’ve got your six, I swear, always, I just don’t know how to handle myself right now, I told Coulson I shouldn’t-”  
“Okay, apology accepted. And I know you have my back. And duh, that wasn’t you taking,” she cocks her head, shifting in his arms-why hasn’t he let her go?-and gives him a look, “was it?”  
“Was it what?” he asks.  
“You talking.”  
“No, I just wanted you safe. I want everyone safe, and I want this memory locked away again. I don’t know how to deal with it this way.”   
“You’ll figure it out. And I’ll have your six.” She promised, brown eyes so trusting that he could master this thing. And with her there beside him, he believed it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I found SkyeWard soundtracks on 8tracks and was listening to them while I wrote, so I thought I’d share them:  
> http://8tracks.com/toxickitten/i-love-you-so-i-love-you-so  
> http://8tracks.com/havkeye/don-t-expect-me-not-to-fall  
> This song was on both, and shaped the story a *little*:  
> Flaws by Bastille  
> Let me know what you thought! It was a struggle to stay canon this time, I kept wanting to have Skye comfort him more, and more; and have him place more importance in her presence in calming the rage. Anyway, it was both easy and hard to write because I kept having to reign myself in.


	7. The Healing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward is laid up in bed after being shot in 1x10 and gets several visitors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was super busy with finals and didn’t have time to write a fic for 1x09-1x10; sorry! I also had writers block as a result of MayWard becoming Canon. I’m working on it ;)
> 
> Set between 1x10 and 1x11

May came to see him first in the small hospital bed set up in the makeshift infirmary space FitzSimmons had improvised, to debrief him. First she was all business, then her eyes softened, and her tone turned warm and worried as she reached over and fiddled with his blanket.   
Ward fidgeted. He wasn’t quite comfortable with this turn things seemed to be taking. Neither one of them seemed to know where to draw the line where the other was comfortable with. He’d overstepped during their sparring session, but she’d overreacted after their mission in the field, automatically jumping the conclusion that he was protecting her.   
Did she want to be protected, even when she swore she didn’t? He wondered, as he continued to feel like her hand on his bed was closing in on him.   
Eventually she left, called away by S.H.I.E.L.D. H.Q. business, and left him to digest what he’d been told and seen. Coulson, gone. Peterson, also blown up. He should have known, should have seen something coming, when they’d gone behind that blockade, out of his sight. It had sent his sixth sense tingling. By murphy’s law, though, he should have known it would go sideways.   
Suddenly he’s pulled from his dark thoughts by a streak of long dark hair hurtling at him, lithe body coming to a vibrating stop inches from his bed. “I was so afraid,” the brunette choked out, before letting out an uncharacteristic little gasp and dropping down next to his bedside, folded arms taking up so much more room on his coverlet that May’s single hand had but somehow a much more comfortable presence.   
“Coulson, and Peterson, and then the gunshots and I thought if they’d gotten you too and it was just us four left, I couldn’t…” her words drift out from under a head that is shaking back and forth in denial, and he has the strange urge to reach out and touch her, offer some kind of comfort. But suddenly her head pops up, eyes shiny and apologetic, mouth twisted into a grimace.   
“I’m sorry. I should be making sure you’re comfortable, not dumping on you.” She hangs her head in contrition.   
“I’m fine. FitzSimmons fixed me up,” he assured her.   
“I can’t believe Coulson is just gone,” Skye said sadly, looking lost.   
“Yeah, me neither,” he clenched his jaw, “and I let it happen.”   
“Grant, you didn’t let it happen. May debriefed us. You couldn’t see, and that wasn’t part of the plan. Neither was what Mike did, which you didn’t even know about until after it happened. If you’d taken a shot at them, they would have shot Coulson too. And no one had any way of knowing about the explosives. It’s no more your fault than May’s or Coulson himself’s.” Earnest faith shown in brown eyes grazing steadily into his, unwaveringly strong in their conviction of his rightness.   
He didn’t feel completely absolved. But healing had begun, somewhere in his battle-scared heart, somewhere within those brown eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Sorry about the long wait! Drop me a review! I’m toying with the idea of a second, short chapter, possibly including Ace during the break…thoughts?

**Author's Note:**

> Not too long. They’ll probably get longer as I feel I have more to work with. Leave a review and let me know what you think! I’ll try to update mid-way between the break between shows, but I’m in college, so no promises!


End file.
